


Eight

by Orinoco_II



Series: Codas [7]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Fluff, Friday night is movie night, M/M, Mentions of Martha, Missing Scene, Porridge Incident, Pre-episode Reset s2e6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 02:38:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15378885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orinoco_II/pseuds/Orinoco_II
Summary: It's Friday.  It's 5pm.  Torchwood are clocking off.





	Eight

They’ve got that Friday feeling this afternoon. It’s been a slow day, all things considered, and Owen and Gwen are challenging each other to a paper throwing competition, Ianto’s mostly staring into space and even Tosh has dragged her attention from her computer to chat about inconsequential matters from time to time. Jack’s been shut up in his office for the past two hours tinkering with some piece of tech he practically salivated over when Owen brought it in that morning.

Gwen claims yet another victory and Owen comes up with yet another excuse, before flinging his arms in the air. “Most normal offices would be clocking off this time on a Friday,” he declares. “Going down the pub for after work drinks.”

Gwen looks at her watch. “We could, you know.”

Ianto considers this. It’s what they used to do at Torchwood One. Everyone in their suits buying ridiculously expensive European beers or wine or cocktails, standing around awkwardly with such a raging cacophony of conversation that he could only pray for the moment when the first people would start to leave, kidding himself that this was what he wanted. He sometimes yearns for it even now; when he’s found himself chasing down hostile alien lifeforms on a Friday night, passing the packed out bars in Cardiff Bay, high-spirited conversations drifting out, a small part of him longs to be inside and for his life to be a little more normal. A quick glance up at Jack’s office reminds him he’s got a far better deal.

“If I’m clocking off early,” Tosh chimes in. “It’ll be to have a bath and an early night.”

“Christ Tosh,” Owen splutters. “I’ve got great aunts with more life in them than you.”

Ianto winces as he sees Tosh stung by Owen’s comment. It’s just a moment until the smile returns, though it’s a little dimmer now.

Owen turns to Gwen. “What about you? Fancy blowing off some steam?”

“Actually…” Gwen trails off, looking half sheepish and half gleeful at the idea that’s just occurred to her. “I could take Rhys out for that meal I’ve been promising him.”

Owen’s incredulous. “I don’t believe it! Am I the only person here who knows how to have a good time?”

Ianto is a little offended that Owen hasn’t asked him, though, at the same time, a night out drinking with Owen sounds horrendous. He remembers the hangover from the last time, in Hengoed.

“What about Ianto?” Gwen asks and Ianto curses her internally.

“Well, I suppose if I’m scraping the barrel,” Owen says, turning to Ianto sardonically. “How about it Jones?”

“A tempting offer Owen,” Ianto returns, appreciating the insult for what it is. He can’t help himself glancing up at Jack’s office again. “But I think I might have other plans for a night off.”

Owen follows his gaze and then throws his hands in the air. “Bloody hell. That puts Harkness out of the picture too then I suppose.” He stands up and stretches. “Well, sod the lot of you. I’m sure I can find far more stimulating company than you lot anyway.” He swings on his jacket and heads for the door. “If our dear Captain asks, tell him I’m joining the rest of this country’s workforce who are, at this very moment, logging off computers in offices across the land and hitting the finest drinking establishments Britain has to offer.”

It’s not long before Gwen and Tosh follow him. Ianto waits until they’ve all left before heading up to Jack’s office. Leaning up against the doorframe, he watches fondly as Jack pokes a screwdriver into the gadget on his desk, face screwed up with concentration.

“Any joy?”

Jack jumps but smiles when he looks up to see Ianto standing there. “Not really.” He waggles the screwdriver. “21st century tools for 51st century tech. Talk about square pegs and round holes. What I need is a flaxule-head.”

Ianto steps further into Jack’s office and sits down opposite him. “A what head?”

“A flaxule head,” Jack repeats. “To fit screws like these.” He holds the device up for Ianto to see.

Ianto peers at the elaborate circuit board. “What am I looking at?”

“Here.” Jack points to a miniscule screw in the centre of the circuit board. “They’re tiny too, so laser guided wouldn’t go amiss.”

Ianto squints and studies the shape of the screw head. “I think we have one of those,” he says. “In the archives.” He examines the device closely. It’s a sleek black sphere with what appear, to Ianto’s untrained eye, to be speaker grills and a camera lens. “What does that thing do anyway?”

“It’s a Motivator 3000,” Jack announces, leaning back in his chair and balancing the sphere on his fingertips. “Monitors your mood levels and gives you a compliment when you’re down. Encourages you to keep going when you’re finding things tough. That sort of thing.”

“AI?” Ianto queries, intrigued.

“Up to a point,” Jack confirms.

“Cool,” Ianto nods. He stands. “I’ll go and look for that screwdriver.”

“I can help,” Jack offers.

Ianto pauses in the doorway and raises an eyebrow. “I think I’ll be quicker without your help Jack.”

Jack huffs as Ianto heads off down to the archives. It doesn’t take him long to locate the screwdriver. It’s in the miscellaneous tools sections, in a box neatly labelled ‘screwdrivers’. Now Ianto knows it’s a flaxule head, he’ll be able to label it more precisely, which makes him happier than it really ought to.

When he returns to Jack’s office, he’s rewarded with Jack’s big-kid grin and spends the next hour watching Jack at work, enthusiastically explaining everything to Ianto who laps it up. Eventually, Jack decides he can’t go any further without soldering and puts the sphere to one side. He tilts his head and listens, frowning.

“Where are the others?” he asks.

“They went home an hour ago,” Ianto says.

Jack checks his watch. “It’s only six.”

“Yes, but Owen said to tell you that he’s joining the rest of the country and clocking off at five because it’s Friday and he wants to go drinking. Gwen and Tosh decided to take the night off too.”

“Oh.” The frown deepens.

“It has been a quiet day,” Ianto reminds him.

Jack sighs. “I suppose.” He looks across at Ianto. “So why are you still here?”

Ianto rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Because, believe it or not, I like spending time with you.”

“Oh,” Jack says again, still frowning. “Well, you can take off now, if you want.”

“Ok.” Ianto pushes his chair back and stands. “Do you want to come with me?”

Jack blinks, still looking utterly bemused by the current turn of events. “It’s Friday.”

“So?”

“I usually come round on a Saturday.”

“I’m sure the world won’t end if you break that habit,” Ianto tells him teasingly.

“I suppose.”

“Unless you’re getting old and stuck in your ways?”

Jack’s frown turns into something resembling a pout as he stands and takes his coat down from the stand in the corner of his office. “Shut up,” is the best response he can come up with. Ianto simply laughs as they leave the Hub in darkness.

They pick up a Chinese on the way back to Ianto’s flat and, since it’s a respectable hour to be having dinner, they eat it off plates at the kitchen table instead of falling asleep into a pizza box on the sofa the wrong side of midnight. Afterwards, Ianto suggests watching a film and Jack happily agrees.

“What do you fancy?” Ianto says, standing in front of his extensive DVD collection, hands on hips.

Jack shrugs. “I don’t mind. I haven’t watched a movie in years.” He sinks down on the sofa.

Ianto stares at the DVD spines for some times before deciding to take the plunge and grabbing one from his Bond collection. He waves the box in Jack’s direction as he carries it over to the television.

“James Bond?” Jack notes.

“If this relationship’s going to go anywhere, you’re going to have to accept Bond into your life at some point,” Ianto tells him.

“Ah,” Jack comments. “Love me, love my Bond?”

“Exactly.” Ianto busies himself putting the DVD into the player so Jack can’t see his reddening cheeks or panicked expression. Has Jack just offhandedly told him he loves him yet again? “ _Goldfinger_ ,” he announces, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as strangled to Jack as it does in his head. “Best place to start I think.”

Ianto sits down beside Jack on the sofa, side by side but not touching. Awkwardly, Ianto picks up the remote and starts the film. A few sideways glances later, Jack gives a grin and flings an arm around Ianto’s shoulders, pulling him in close. Ianto relaxes, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, and smiles back.

*

Ianto’s enjoying the view whilst he eats breakfast. The mornings are still light but growing colder so he’s thrown a jumper over his pyjamas. Jack, on the other hand, is just in his pants, arse sticking out and head buried deep in Ianto’s microwave as he scrapes the blobs of porridge out of it. Ianto said he fancied porridge for breakfast and Jack claimed to know how to make it. When the porridge exploded all over the microwave, Ianto realised he was right to doubt the claim. Still, at least Jack’s clearing up his mess and Ianto can get in a good perv as he sits at the kitchen table eating it.

“How is it?” Jack’s muffled voice floats over.

“Not bad,” Ianto says. Smothered in syrup, he almost doesn’t mind the lumps.

“You’re just saying that.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

Jack turns around and scowls. “I knew it.”

Ianto grins and shovels in another spoonful. Peeved, Jack goes back to his cleaning.

“I’ve been thinking about that corpse we found on Thursday,” Jack announces after a moment.

Ianto grimaces as he thinks back to the body with the exploded chest cavity. “Not while I’m eating.”

Jack turns around and grabs a dish cloth. “I only wanted to say that I’m thinking about bringing in a friend to take a look. Owen’s stumped and she’s a doctor with UNIT.”

Ianto raises surprised eyebrows. “You have a friend in UNIT?”

“She wasn’t in UNIT when we met,” Jack explains. “I haven’t seen her for ages. Martha Jones.” A faraway look appears on Jack’s face and something squirms in Ianto’s tummy. “She’s amazing – you’ll really like her.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jack stops wiping the microwave and turns to face Ianto. Ianto realises the suspicion must be written all over his face. “She’s not an ex, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” Jack grins.

Ianto stands up and carries his empty bowl to the sink. “Is my paranoia that obvious?” he wonders aloud.

“Just the right side of paranoid to be cute,” Jack tells him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You’ve got nothing to worry about Ianto.” He pushes his face into Ianto’s hair, breath tickling on his neck when he speaks. “I don’t stick around to clean just anyone’s microwave you know.”

Ianto feels the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he starts to run water into the sink. “Go and get dressed or we’ll be late,” he tells Jack to avoid the conversation deepening further than he’s comfortable with.

Jack laughs, kisses his temple and lets go, taking his all-enveloping warmth with him as he disappears from the kitchen. Ianto rolls up his sleeves and grabs the washing up liquid. Looking across at the microwave, he spots a lump of porridge still clinging to the door. It’ll need cleaning again later but at least Jack’s made an effort.


End file.
